


Starboys 1: Lights On

by Cyrelia_J



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, Assassins & Hitmen, Background Relationships, Bad Sex, Cybernetics, Disguise, Drugs, Genetically Engineered Beings, Identity Porn, M/M, Pre-Poly, Sexual Content, Sexual Interfacing, Sexual Tension, Technology, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 13:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15389421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrelia_J/pseuds/Cyrelia_J
Summary: The Obsidian Order is the covert arm of the Cardassian Empire, an elite organization specializing in “diplomatic” missions for the State. Elim Garak, a veteran of the organization, finds himself on Neo Tokyo’s A1 as part of a routine assassination. He also finds himself with a few hours to kill before the assigned job. Enter one Julian Bashir looking absolutely tempting in the bar. Or is it Julian who finds him?"The young human male who enters stops on the dial as directed. Garak watches for the description to blink, but sees the blank instead. It’s not followed by an accompanying alert, which means one of two things: either the young man is someone very wealthy or someone very interesting. One would think with the opulent hotel catering to those looking to show off their fortunes, to those with perfectly engineered and paid for bodies, and to those seeking to hedonistically indulge in the colony’s pleasurable attractions, that its likely the former. However, such easy prey also attracts slick predators, and Garak is curious to see which the young man is as he watches him from behind that fizzy bitter drink."AU: Sci Fi with a Cyberpunk/Neo Tokyo aesthetic





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was so much fun to work on and has a lot of fun future stuff I wanted to write on. Ultimately (though it may take awhile haha) the entire Starboys will be 3 or 4 parts total including Garak/Bashir, Garak/Parmak, Jack/Parmak, and Jack Julian (though stopping short of a foursome relationship). The full Jack Pack will also show up down the line. C&C is also welcome and thank you all for reading! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On assignment, Garak catches sight of an intriguing young man in the bar

Garak confirmed the target an hour ago. He made sure to book himself a room in the same overpriced and ostentatious hotel on A1. The A1 colony lies at the heart of the Neo Tokyo Empire- the beautiful neon construct. On Neo Tokyo: NT for short, or “Empty Empire” as it’s also  known (a reference to the System generated holograms called “Idols” which stand as its ruling figureheads), is a technological wonderland, and one of the 13 Mega Empires of Earth. It’s also an incredibly dangerous place without any limits on cybernetic or genetic enhancements, creating a rampant breeding ground for Augments, as the enhanced have come to be known. The Idols declared that there was no need for the government to regulate such choices when their beloved fans could hold each other accountable. As a result, the Neo Tokyo colonies host both the most dangerous Augments and the most ruthless Augment hunters.

 

Garak is a hunter of a different sort.

 

He was born on Cardassian Prime, the Cardassian Empire part of the handful of Alpha Quadrant Civilizations spanning multiple organic and constructed star systems. The Cardassian Empire is a beloved and central State comprised of only the Northern Cardassia and Southern Cardassia collectives working in harmony for the good of the Central Command. Officially, they’re allied with the Unidad Nova and People’s New East however the Northern Cardassians, according to their sources, also have a covert partnership with the Soviet Alliance. Garak is thankful that this most recent assignment for the Order for once, hasn’t led him somewhere cold. 

 

The Obsidian Order, run for the last fifty years by one Enabran Tain, operates outside of these limiting constraints, discreetly backed by Central Command. They’re the elite operatives of the Cardassian Empire, specializing in "diplomacy". Or rather, they're the ones called in to assist foreign governments (sometimes allies, sometimes) with internal matters requiring a delicate touch (sometimes assassination, sometimes espionage). The Northern Cardassian alliance with the Soviets has had the unfortunate effect of a lot of _cold_ and miserable contracts on some of the more inhospitable worlds Garak has ever had the misfortune to visit. Garak has never worked on a Soviet colony or settlement that wasn’t Guls damned _freezing._ Head Order doctor Kelas Parmak, so much a Northerner than he likely has ice in lieu of blood, likes to tease him for his temperature sensitivity. Garak likes to snip back at the soft spoken thorn in his side that he’s more than welcome to take a job or two himself. 

 

One day Garak fears the overly curious doctor might actually try and do it.

 

Tonight’s assignment is a nice one. Some senior member of the Diet decided that some junior member had given some sort of offense and decided to send a message. Messages are good; Garak doesn’t need to keep messages particularly clean. Especially in assignments like these which call for blood. He’s counted a small cadre of guards that will be easy to eliminate. The target, Masahiro Takeda, is known for being notoriously frugal, and refused to pay for extra security out of the safety of his district on C7. There are only 4 guards. He thinks he’ll use the bleedout touch tonight. That’s an especially nasty and effective one, and Empties are so beautifully susceptible to poisons. That’s another reason Garak hates Soviet assignments; every last one of them has a poison immunity scare that would impress even a Vorta. Garak’s yet to meet a Soviet immune to an ice pick through the eye socket though.

 

According to Tain, tonight’s target being a thorn in the side of the People’s New East will strengthen their diplomatic ties, and more than likely earn them another indulgence from their leader Weng Luoyan. President Weng was so pleased with their work the last time that it ensured The Empire a bargain on several dozen new weapons contracts for their ongoing war with the Klingons. If Tain’s sources can be trusted, and they usually can, successful completion of tonight’s assignment will surely work towards a few covert military units to assist with saboteur work in the Out Zone. Tain had hinted at such and Doctor Parmak confirmed it when performing his pre assignment physical. 

 

Doctor Parmak also informed him that Tain has _expectations_ of his performance tonight. The client didn’t request a simple execution, but _art._ There’s some long winded and overly flowery nonsense that Garak’s been contracted to read with a skinned over mod to the recording that their head Digital technician Pythas Lok created. It looked strange to Garak, but Lok explained the cultural significance of the mask, sure to give _his_ opinion on the assignment as well, and then remind Garak to treat this seriously, as if Garak had ever failed an assignment his thirty years working for the Order! He took a moment to vent that to Parmak as well while long fingers had pressed into his sternum asking him to cough. 

 

Parmak was never a sympathetic ear, rather he was the man who would always happily cut Garak down with a few carefully chosen words and a small smile on his full lips. Kelas Parmak is a brilliant bespectacled man with pale gray skin, the almost completely white eyes of a Northerner, and a long fall of obscenely long hair woven with beads like a barbarian instead of a brilliant doctor. Kelas Parmak has a wicked sense of humor, a long biteable neck that he leaves scandalously uncovered, and a feminine curve of his hips that he deliberately exaggerates whenever Garak is around. Garak has on more than one occasion dreamed of that neck, that mouth, and those hips. But Kelas Parmak is not merely the head doctor of the Obsidian Order but also Enabran Tain’s personal physician and possibly his lover.

 

Bedding him has been a risk Garak has thrilled toying with over the years, but a line he’s never dared to cross: no matter how many times Parmak might thread their fingers together and hiss softly to his ear bones that he’ll never lower himself to offer what Garak should be determined enough to take if he truly wants it. He wants it, but having a measure of Tain’s trust is far more vital than whatever fleeting pleasure the doctor’s tempting body and quick wit might bring him. So once again as Parmak concluded his examination, circling the table with that extra sway and crane of his neck, Garak merely smiled at him and asked if he truly thought Garak’s acting ability was so poor. Parmak merely replied that in all the years they’d known each other, Garak had never once successfully acted like a model patient and never brought him the books that he asked for while on assignment.

 

No, Garak definitely wouldn’t risk losing good conversation for something as banal as sex.

 

Physical release is easy to come by on assignment. Off assignment he makes do with a quick neural plug in and a pleasing if bland Cardassian skin for the visual. Ah, but on assignment there are usually far more interesting options that he may avail himself of. And the Neo Tokyo Empire is famed for its cyber junkies, massive amounts of tech, and pleasurable diversions. Garak already has the codes for the security feeds to hack and overwrite while he obtains the data his client requested as a secondary job. The client information, his Order keys, and his other tools remain safely locked in the secured case in his room beneath the bed. The case is keyed to his fingerprint and retinal signature only, and _that’s_ if one can even find it. The case itself is camouflaged and won’t reveal itself unless he deactivates the proximity sensor from his watch.

 

His careful planning and early arrival ensured him enough time for a brief diversion to enjoying a drink at the bar downstairs, and do a little people watching. It will also allow for a good test of his disguise tonight, Lok having programmed the subdermal implant to a visual and tactile skin of a non descript human of Japanese ethnicity. Cardassian neck ridges allow the advantage of complex subdermal implants, and Central Command finds it advantageous to allow most outsiders to believe them natural shapeshifters. It is said outside the Empire that no one beholds a Cardassian’s true form, their real bodies rumored to be so monstrous as to paralyze those unfortunate enough to cast a gaze upon them. It’s a fiction Garak may have played to his advantage on more than one occasion.

 

Tonight, disguised as middle aged businessman Hideki Kanagawa, Garak is wearing one of his nicer outfits. He tells himself it has nothing to to with Parmak’s comments on him cutting a dashing figure for the video, but rather an earnest effort to see if his body with Kanagawa’s bland human face coupled with his charm will be enough to find an organic partner for the next few hours. The white button down shirt, artfully unbuttoned shows his chest. His neck in disguise lacks ridges but is still thick and strong, and Garak enjoys the taboo of the open shirt as a human. He’s been told that his chest and ridges, are second only to his ass and his thighs. He makes sure to wear his tight black pants then so that there will be a good view of those assets for the video, for his own vanity, as Parmak might say, and certainly _not_ because Parmak might chance to see it. 

 

There are his eyes as well, but typically those who see them aren’t in a position to appreciate them. They’re a piercing blue that glow faintly from one of his numerous mods, so he takes care to cover them with glasses that cancel out the effect and dampen the glow. Even the human skin over can’t quite hide that shine without a little extra help, but the glasses are good for completing the disguise along with his traditionally slicked back black hair. The ocular modification allows for deep scans beyond what most other sophisticated jammers can mask; there's little that escapes Garak’s vision. By law everyone conducting business in human space are required to have their genetic nanite profile uploaded into the Earth Empire system grid for identification with public data available. It’s a laughable precaution, and the Ferengi have made a fortune in manufacturing and upgrading dummy override chips to subvert the displayed public data.

 

Garak’s own modifications go a step further than the public, the changeable nanites running the dummy profile until they’re dissolved. All Order operatives are genetic System blanks. It makes it far easier to disappear. He has a few other modifications and cybernetic parts that Parmak swaps out on occasion, but he likes to keep those little secrets tight. He takes a long drink of the cool blue liquid, a far cry from the synthed trash at the Order compound. It warms down to his toes and he curls them pleasantly in his heavy black boots as he continues to watch the rest of the bar, careful not to appear to shrewd, and just a touch tipsy. 

 

There are the usual polymorphed dolls that pass by with collars- with prices flashing for the rate-  their glossy eyes only coming to life with a print scan and a ring of credits. They come in a rainbow of colors from gold to silver back to green, their skin all the same smoothness, a shine like a wet marine animal glistening from the dim lights. There’s a shimmer to their hair, gilded glitter bombs come to life. Garak notices the couple at the table behind him debating whether or not the dolls are real. Garak snorts into his drink, getting warmer in the pleasant humidity. Nothing in this world is real. 

 

Garak shuts his eyes a moment, listening to the loud beat playing low, the floor a rumble beneath his feet, the vibration running through the stool that he’s seated on to bring a pleasurable sensation. He hums along to it, feeling a reverberation in his throat amplified from the sensitizing properties of the drink. Ah that will definitely serve to enhance the pleasure from the companion he chooses. He isn’t sure yet if he’ll be able to find something unique, or if he’ll have to settle for one of the polymorph dolls instead. Once they’re purchased, with the proper amount of credits they can easily be dialed into various shapes, races, sexes, and anything in between. Lok likes to brag that he he hasn’t stuck it in an organic in decades. Parmak usually thanks him for his service to the State without so much as a hint of a grin when he does.

 

Garak is particular. Or rather, he’s usually particular. Tonight he’s feeling unusually keyed up before the job. It may also be a property of the drink. He tends to encounter doctored drinks far more often in less reputable establishments, but there was a particular look from the Ferengi at the bar which made him immediately suspicious. It would make sense. The polymorph dolls aren’t cheap, and more than likely if the bartender is also the proprietor renting space, then he’d want to maximize his profit. Garak slows his drinking, sitting back to watching the patrons slipping in and out- sometimes with each other, sometimes with one of the dolls. The holo screens up near the ceilings float with their different feeds of colorful idols and bizarre athletic contests. He barely spares a glance for the latest updates on the war. His success tonight will help turn the tide of the west Empire Border skirmish near Ssara.

 

Garak is about to request one of the sealed fizzy pop numbers - not because he enjoys the cloying bubbles, but because he knows the security sensors built into the bottles won’t allow for tampering - when he catches sight of an interesting specimen entering the bar. The entrance to the bar, like most social networking establishments, runs an automatic scan of patrons, and provides detail pertinent for prospective interaction. Patrons are directed to remain on one of the small circular pads on the floor for a five count, while the public data populates in pleasant green letters. Only those with special clearance are allowed to turn theirs off. If the scan doesn’t detect the proper authorization it turns red and pings security. Garak’s, or rather Kanagawa’s, passed the scan easily without anyone giving him a second look.

 

The young human male who enters stops on the dial as directed. Garak watches for the description to blink, but sees the blank instead. It’s not followed by an accompanying alert, which means one of two things: either the young man is someone very wealthy or someone very _interesting_. One would think with the opulent hotel catering to those looking to show off their fortunes, to those with perfectly engineered and paid for bodies, and to those seeking to hedonistically indulge in the colony’s pleasurable attractions, that its likely the former. However, such easy prey also attracts slick predators, and Garak is curious to see which the young man is as he watches him from behind that fizzy bitter drink.

 

There is an animal native to the grassy plains near the Arawath Colony. It’s a type of bi-horned quadruped with a sleek tan body and impossibly long legs it uses to effortlessly bound through the tall grasses.  The creatures are known in the Earth colonies as _wazelles,_ and highly prized for their racing pedigree. That's the image which immediately comes to mind as Garak eyes the young man gracefully stepping off the disc. He’s tall, all limbs, but certain in his stature. He’s wearing a fitted black speed suits, arms and legs covered with the fitted and glossy material like a mythical creature flowing like a glorious ebony reed. Garak can see him subtly scanning the room. There’s an earnest expression to his face, and in the dim lighting only broken by the occasional flashing strobes and neon accents, Garak can seen brilliant hazel eyes. Garak also finds himself lingering over long on the human’s long tan neck.

 

He’s tempted to scent the air, wondering if he might pick up a taste even amongst the crowd. Most of them have scent dampeners, which is quite thoughtful given Cardassian sensibilities. He knows better, careful to lets his eyes drop back down at the exact right moment: soon enough to blend with the rest of the crowd, but just long enough to catch the young man’s gaze. His face says both prey and predator. Garak’s head tells him to turn back to one of the mindless feeds and nurse the rest of his drink until it’s time to leave. He doesn't need whatever complication the human is wrapped in, and reluctantly he forced himself to watch the latest speech from the United Interstellar American President commemorating the upcoming traditional Earth sporting games.

 

The distraction serves its purpose, that lustful itch dying down. The human is no Kelas Parmak, and to try and pretend otherwise for a moment would be a disservice to them both. Perhaps he’s getting old, he thinks. Parmak has cheekily informed him on more than one occasion, that any time he might be in need of a "youthful refresher", he’s more than welcome to visit the infirmary. Garak shivers at the memory of the doctor’s fingers ghosting over the back of his hand, the sweet scent of him as he leaned in closer, scenting the air himself. Garak’s heart had pounded as he wondered wildly if Tain wouldn't encourage Parmak to seduce him to gain that additional leverage. It nearly killed him- the top button of Parmak’s jacket unbuttoned to show the scales of his neck, the delicate ridges- but Garak demurred. He might be willing to die for Tain, but he’d sooner follow through with that vow than have him know any more of his secrets.

 

Parmak is untouchable. Garak _should_ indulge in the human. But he’s already disappeared from view, and Garak thinks no more of it until he senses the extra heat, the presence within his carefully guarded body space. That awareness still doesn’t prepare him for the long fingers which fall over his, the young man slipping next to him. Garak’s body almost tenses but he’s trained better than that. He’s also trained better than to immediately pull away. Instead, he allows the contact, slowly setting the bottle down on the bar, already deciding not to drink from it again. Garak smiles pleasantly, noting that the young man’s musculature isn’t indicative of any enhanced strength, cybernetic or otherwise. Enhanced reflexes? he wonders, those thoughts interrupted by the sound of a soft, cultured voice.

 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” He’s speaking a slightly accented Earth Standard and it’s pleasingly melodic. Garak debates responding in the local Neo Tokyo dialect and letting the automatic filters from the bar do the translating. Most higher end establishments in Colony space are fitted with the translators, along with hotel rooms and similar. It isn’t necessary in most cases with the small earpieces and even auditory mods being so commonplace, but it’s a status symbol in these types of establishments. He goes for it on a whim, quickly using the bar’s menu to bring it up. The young man catches that motion and waits a beat before surprising Garak by continuing in native NT.

 

“You don’t need to do that,” he says with a grin, that hand still lingering with a light stroke of a thumb, “I think I ought to tell you that I saw you when I first came in and I... couldn’t help but think that we might get to know each other better.” Garak smiles back careful to look surprised. Kanagawa is unassuming, and not one to generally attract such attention from a comely young man. Garak considers going along with the human, wondering how sweet he might taste, wondering if he’s the type of honeypot to take the game all the way before boosting the poor fool’s credits. It’s more than tempting, a scenting to the air nearly making him shiver with the salty sweet of the human’s musk. Well, the credits Garak has aren’t his anyway, and in the end, does it matter if he pays a high class whore a thousand credits or allows a clever thief to boost them?

 

_It seems you’ve made your decision then, Elim,_ he thinks to himself, meeting the brilliant hazel eyes which sweep pleasantly over his body. He notes they linger on his chest, and he may sit up a little straighter at that.

“I can’t imagine that you would find me that exciting,” Garak answers with a duck of his head. He allows the touch from the human to linger. He allows the stroke of a thumb over the back of his hand, and he allows his eyes to track a tilt of the young man’s head exposing more of his neck. Guls, he wants to savage that smooth skin over the delicate column.

 

“Oh, I think you’d be surprised at the sorts of things that I find _exciting_. I’m Julian Bashir,” he says finally moving his hand, and Garak notices that he’s left with an interesting tingle when Julian does. A more naive man might think it the result of some kismet, some sexual electricity, but as Garak feels a quick skip of his pulse he recognizes it for exactly what it is. It’s a drug, and judging by the race of his heart and the warmth starting to flood him, a damn potent aphrodisiac considering that Garak is immune to most of the standards these thieves use. Something also tells him that Julian Bashir is also most likely his real name. Oh the young man, “call me Julian”, has raised a powerful curiosity in him! That isn’t all that he’s raised as Garak begins to feel a throb between his legs, his _prUt_ seeming to want to evert in spite of his attempts to maintain control.

 

“Kanagawa Hideki,” he answers with a voice that’s clearly more steady than Julian was expecting, judging by the subtle blink of surprise. Garak doesn’t think that it will remain steady for long, but he also doesn’t foresee Julian dragging this out. “Ah, sorry, that is just Hideki you would probably say," he clarifies with a duck of his head.

"You don't need to accommodate me, I can call you Mr. Kanagawa."

"That won't be necessary. It's just-" Garak, he normally says, plain, simple, "Hideki." That completes the lie. "Forgive me for being forward,” Garak continues, as if Julian would expect anything else from this concocted scenario! “-but I must say that you have the most enchanting scent,” he breathes, wondering if that’s Julian’s natural sweetness or contrived as well. Julian’s answering grin seems almost too earnest and appreciative to be contrived, but Garak knows better than to trust such undependable things as his eyes.

 

“You’ve got the nicest looking mouth,” Julian compliments in return, and Garak sees him holding up his right palm, having moved it from Garak’s hand. His heart skips a beat a moment. It's a clearly Cardassian gesture. Has the implant failed? “I saw this on a feed once” Julian says, looking almost shy, "I think they said it was a Cardassian thing- thought it was a brilliant way of giving a little kiss since we're being a little forward, right?" Garak doesn't think that Julian caught the momentary freeze of his face, his easy smile still plastered on as he gamely lifts his palm. It’s a curious method of flirtation; a human handshake would surely transmit more of the drug into his system. It's clever, _worldly_ , Garak thinks as he feels the adrenaline racing, feels the swell of his ridges trusting Lok's programming skill that they'll hold up to a touch manipulation no matter how aroused he becomes. Garak has done this before, after all, though never with a young man so desirable. 

 

Garak smiles back, practically purring as he leans in. Julian is so close standing there, warm, nearly as heated as Garak and he's- Oh... _Oh_ he's threading his fingers through Garak's, making the sensitive junctures between his fingers sing. Guls, what are the odds that this human's curious seduction methods are so congruent to his desires? He swallows a hiss carefully. 

“I think you know the answer to that question, my dear. Just as I also think that if I were to ask you up to my room right now you would happily oblige,” he adds, giving another scent, salty human skin tickling his tongue deliciously. Garak almost leaves it at that, but the heat, that ache, that unwilling eversion makes him reckless enough to whisper to Julian’s ear in NT accented English, “I should imagine that you’re as eager for my cock on your greedily little hole or else you wouldn’t have so blatantly approached me.”

 

It might be too filthy for Kanagawa but it's his character and if he wants to alter those parameters then it's certainly his prerogative. Julian hardly seems inclined to call him on a slip of character he doesn't even know Garak is playing. Either Julian is a damn fine actor or he’s just as keyed up as Garak is. Likely the truth lies somewhere in between. It’s the most effective actors who can call upon emotion, sentiment to direct their responses, and Julian presses against Garak's knee, giving him a little feel of his own growing arousal. 

“What do you think?” Julian teases back with a wicked curl of his fingers, a seeming double dose of that drug surging through him the more Julian's hand twists in his, Garak's pants getting tighter as he everts in spite of himself with a soft gasp. Guls, Garak wants pull him into his lap right there and make him ride it- that body has to be light, that tiny ass would let him drive it in so deep and hard. There are places in the bar where that can be done. He thinks about it, crazy as that would be, but he isn’t so far gone into lust that he can't remember that his priority is keeping a low profile. A man leaving with an attractive young escort isn’t unusual, but anything public has the possibility to... _Right, get out_ _now_ _, Elim._

 

“I have a room,” he says, though it should be obvious that he isn’t here for the same purposes as Julian. Of course he has a room, but Julian doesn’t comment on the inane statement. Instead he nods his acknowledgment and continues to thrust their threaded fingers until Garak can feel the sensitive nerve make his entire arm want to melt. Julian seems reluctant to release that grip when he takes a step back, but he finally does, long fingers slipping back through Garak's like water.

“Think you might show it to me?” he asks cheeky in English, that wordplay coming into the game as he realizes that Garak can understand his native tongue. The double entendre nearly makes Garak groan as he stands. His shame is also going to be obvious when they step out of the dark bar, but it's useful since it's exactly what would be expected of a human.

“Nothing would please me more,” Garak rasps, growing unsteady as he feels his slit, his _ajan_ warm, lubricating, ready to either drive into the human or be penetrated itself, Guls, this is going to kill him!

 

“God, I can tell,” Julian says, reaching between them just a moment. Garak finds that hint of wonder in his voice as he lightly gropes that sensitive bulge to be nearly as heady as the drug coursing through him. “Lucky for you I know a good way ‘round the back door,” he says with a wink. Garak is almost reluctant to take his hand again, but Julian actually offers the other one. Garak takes it without another thought as his eyes are already distractedly wandering to Julian's collarbone, his shoulders, neck, and soon those impossibly slim hips as he leads them both winding through the back. Garak is surprised that Julian knows of a clandestine guest lift, when Julian tells him with an obviously put upon laugh that he’s staying at the hotel too as a _guest_ and not some sort of bar hopping crook. That only confirms his ill intentions in Garak’s mind.

 

Confirms and dismisses as the lift doors open, the sharp tang of gratification hitting him hard. It would normally be unpleasant to the palette, but he finds that knowledge of past illicit transgressions to be freeing and arousing. Julian takes it as an invitation to press him against the wall of the lift and grind against him with a groan against his sensitive neck ridges before asking if he might kiss him. Garak has never been overly fond of the human meeting of mouths but he acquiesces with frightening ease, opening eagerly to Julian’s mouth on his. Julian’s tongue licks teeth, meets his, that hard human prick grinding against Garak's thigh. Garak’s hands, initially resting hard against the lift wall, paw at Julian’s ass, finding little more than a handful there (Perfect! Just like he imagined) and he’s so _light_ that Garak practically pulls him off his feet as he tugs him closer.

 

Garak thinks he announces the floor. He must because the lift moves, quickly and efficiently arriving at the twelfth floor, pausing only when Julian yells “stall”. It’s a useful command that begins a five minute countdown where the floor was previously displayed. It’s not a lift command Garak is familiar with, wondering if it’s another little secret reserved only for the back bar lift. He understands that he’s meant to take advantage, and while he tells himself it’s merely to expedite the encounter so that he can recover for his work, that thought barely lasts more than a second. He doesn’t consider that the lift is still monitored the same as every other. He doesn’t consider that Julian is incredibly messy with his kisses - more so than any other human he’s lain with - tongue, saliva thoughtlessly sluiced between their mouths. This is the part he finds the most unpalatable about human kissing. It's the part he craves the most now.

 

Garak doesn’t consider anything but the hot heavy need in his belly as he twists his hips just enough, lifts Julian off his feet, and turns them pressing, rutting with some mindless instinct against him, a hand on a slender thigh that that needs little encouragement to come up and squeeze at his waist. Garak doesn’t consider Julian’s soft whispers of “good, good boy, that’s a good boy,” and he stupidly doesn’t consider how hard Julian’s teeth bite his ridges. Or rather he considers that it makes his knees weak, it makes his pants stickier, makes him grind against Julian furiously until that... until that weakness spreads and his limbs feel heavy and Julian... Julian continues those soft kisses, passing more... sticky sweet saliva to his mouth and that’s when he realizes... when the lift doors open and he senses another presence behind him that perhaps he’s made a far more grave error than he realized.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak comes to and finds out exactly what's going on.

Needless to say when he comes back into consciousness, lying on the bed of his hotel room, he’s relieved to find Julian quickly and efficiently rifling through his things. For a moment it concerned him that there was more at play than mere thievery. But no, it may be a good boosting of his personal effects and likely credits, but no more than he’d expected. Garak sighs, not terribly loudly, as his eyes blink back into wakefulness. Still, he notices that Julian stops, even amidst that rifling, as if he might have heard him. That’s... curious. Garak blinks a few more times as Julian examines his watch, working the codes to deactivate any security. It would be unfortunate were he to break them. Unlikely but- But then he sees Julian toss the watch nearly into the main sitting room of the suite, and something tells him that it’s about to come to pass.

 

Cardassian hearing is poor, but he doesn’t immediately dismiss the lack of an accompanying sound. He remembers sensing another presence, and that’s where his mind goes now. The unconcerned manner in which the other device was tossed outside would indicate the other presence can break the security. Garak supposes that it may well be another decade before Tain gifts him with another “token of esteem” for his services. He debates a stupid sentimental moment of bargaining for the watch, just as he debates clearing his throat to ask for a check of the time. Technically the job doesn’t _have_ to be completed exactly at one hundred, he really has the entire night, but he prefers being prompt with these things. He hears another man speaking in English, a quick rush of a voice, the accent different and the cadence wilder.

 

Garak realizes as he blinks that his glasses have been removed - another irritation and likely a lecture from Parmak on having a care for the items they have to customize for him - and he thinks it’s as good an excuse as any for make use of his the illegal mods to run a _real_ scan on Julian. Sometimes the information filtering through, the processes necessary to perform such a deep scan make his head hurt, but he’s still swimming in a nice sort of haze. His limbs are still heavy as slag, and given that he’s probably been dosed with a muscle relaxer, sedative, and paralytic on top of that, it couldn’t hurt to allow himself to slip into that deep scan. It’s a lengthy process, but he isn’t going anywhere, and Julian isn’t paying attention to what he likely imagines to be the unconscious figure on the bed, so Garak takes advantages of the fact that the glasses suppressing the mods have been removed and runs it.

 

There’s also an irritation that begins to grow, a pique that’s starting to manifest as he watches Julian’s body kneeling on the ground, occasionally reaching for something on his hands and knees. At least that's what Garak thinks he sees; he can only see the Julian's head and shoulders at most. Garak has more than likely spent himself inside his expensive garments - _not_ inside the eager young man - and he’s all in all not pleased with it. Not only that, there’s a feel of metal hanging heavy around his wrists and legs which would indicate gravity cuffs, seeing as how the bed has no posts. Gravity cuffs will be a nuisance to remove should they decide to leave them on, and that detail again speaks to a strange contradiction of professionalism to what still has the air of a very small operation.

 

It’s an unusually heavy precaution too, one that he would think far too much for one unassuming human businessman. He understands the reason when the scan completes. Garak closes his eyes carefully to consider his next actions. The scan bears out exactly what he’d begun to suspect. Julian is an Augment. There’s a strong possibility that the person in the other room is as well; Genetic Augments who make it into adulthood rarely do so alone. The markets are strong for Augments, the more impressive the specimen, the more likely they’ll be hunted down for bounty, either to be sold or contracted to be put down as a precaution by those organizations who live in fear of their abilities. The Hunter Market is a strong one, full of bounty hunters eager to cash in on Augments or those with mods that catch their fancy; Tain was the one who ordered the glasses made for Garak’s eyes, feeling he was taking too much delight in the distraction from the hunters that came for them.

 

Tain wouldn’t be particularly pleased with him if this “lapse” results in any embarrassment (as if this wasn't embarassing enough!), and as Garak is considering how he might effectively run damage control, he also thinks of how Parmak is never hearing a word of this. He can imagine the doctor raising a brow ridge, giving a little smirk, and suggesting that if his sexual activity were regulated more effectively, then he wouldn’t find his judgment so pathetically compromised by a nice tasting human rubbing against him. That would be followed by his laugh. Parmak has a habit of half hissing when he laughs, face flushing, ridges darkening if he’s especially amused, with a hand over his mouth, glasses half falling off his face. It always makes Garak picture some sex disheveled image superimposed in its place, and excuse himself quickly. Parmak complains as a result, that Garak has no appreciation for humor. If he only knew!

 

Speaking of "nice tasting", Garak can still taste him, that scent of Julian's arousal not having dampened in the slightest. It should have unless the foolish human allowed himself to be dosed too. Garak sees a pause, a bunching of Julian's shoulders at the same time, and following his keen instinct, switching his optical implants to the x-ray spectrum so that he can see the rest of Julian's body through the soft mattress. The metal frame causes a small distraction, but it's easy to look past that to the framing of bones and the faint outline of the slim human form surrounding it. He wishes the mattress wasn't too thick for the infrared to sense heat because the picture as it is is already compelling. 

 

Julian is still on his knees, fingers curling into the carpet of the room, knees together, hunched over as if in pain. He's not in pain because the dizzying aroma that Garak can scent in anything but. His hearing is poor compared to a human's but that doesn't stop him from keying into the familiar sound of gasps, heavy breaths, and he watches Julian's hand stealing between his legs just resting there. _Oh, poor boy, you're trying to bring yourself back under control, aren't you?_ Garak keeps his expression neutral in case he needs to slip his eyes shut again. Still, with no one else there but the two of them, Garak allows his memory, allows imagination to fill in the lines of skin wrapped over the bone he sees and he lets himself picturing the palm start to slip, grow more frantic, knees fall open wider no matter how much he tries to control it.

 

Garak watches the curve of Julian's back, sees the shifting of his spine infinitesimally as he shakes, as his hand moves faster, as those breaths begin to become apparent to Cardassian ears. He hears a few stutters of breath as if Julian is speaking a name, beginning to be interspersed with whimpers. Julian's head is tossing back and forth and for an irritated moment, Garak is all too aware of the special sort of torture that the paralytic is giving him. He can _feel_ but he can't _move_ and Julian is in such a perfect position for some slow crawl of a body behind him to pull him back, soothe that fever as he slides his fat _prUt_ slowly, slowly, into Julian's hot quivering body.

 

_"Ah, there's that imagination of yours at work again, Elim."_ He hears Parmak in his mind as if the man were right next to him privy to all those dark dreams that he harbors. Garak scents the air again swallowing down a groan as he switches his optical implants back to normal and closes his eyes. There is a signature to arousal that's unique like a fine vintage of kanar but at the heart of those subtle tones it remains the thick, sweet feast for his tongue. That also means that within infinite combinations there are lines that cross and this line crossing into his mind in the sultry sativa lancing the air that reminds him of Parmak. It reminds him of Parmak entering the examination room _reeking_ of sex no matter how put together he appeared, one extra jacket button undone, an unsteadiness to his step as he apologized for his tardiness. Apologized with a steady look saying that Tain had required his services, causing Garak to nearly call him on the lie because he _only_ smelled the heat of the lying doctor-

 

“Jack!” Julian’s voice interrupts that line of thought and Garak keeps his eyes closed, trying to regulate his breaths back to normal. _Now isn't the time, Elim,_ he reminds himself, knowing that he's far to fired up to fall back to sleep even as the muscle relaxants and paralytic war with the aphrodisiac and his own pumping adrenaline. He can maintain that state artificially for a fair amount of time if need be so as not to crash with that dump. He'll pay for it later. For now, Garak needs his mind sharp, hearing the footsteps, and then an agitated voice begin to speak in answer to Julian's cry.

 

“Shh! Shh quiet! Don’t yell you don’t know how loud-”

“It’s not loud Jack, I promise, that’s just your hearing I… I need to stop. Please. Please I can’t…” Garak nearly smiles, halting the curl of his lip as Julian is surely sitting back on his heels and showing "Jack" the exact malady with which he finds himself afflicted. Garak's amusement at the irony is only tempered by his own throbbing problem. The humans have a word for that shared misery, some European Union language variant that he can't quite place. _Ah,_ _schadenfreude_ _, that's it. Such a beautiful sentiment._

“It’s the drug. I told you that was the effect, Lauren warned you too, said you should wear gloves, said if you didn’t wear gloves eventually you’d be affected too hm. You _knew_ that and I warned you and you _had_ to insist that you would be fine. You _wanted_ this to happen, you knew-”

 

“Jack,” more pitiful this time and it sounds like there’s a dam about to burst, about to flood and Guls, if the two of them plan on screwing right there in front of him… 

 

Garak tables that thought, the more immediate one returning. Another name was mentioned, likely the name of the one who’s the mastermind behind the drugs they used. It sounds like the first time they’ve used them as well. Curious, he thinks. Is this their first heist then or merely first time diverting from some other formula? The cuffs would indicate the latter. He nearly snorts. Amateurs.

“We can’t,” Jack hisses, and Garak feels a rush of breeze, a frantic pacing then. “You already told me you needed to dose him higher and longer for both of the drugs. He’s modded. He _has_ to be modded and he’s going to wake up and you can’t wipe him if he’s woken up!”

 

“Now who’s yelling!?” comes Julian’s strained voice. “If he’s modded we might not be able to wake him up anyway. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, the guest list said that Hideki Kanagawa was just a middle aged businessman and I think- I think he might just be one of those mod junkies with too much money or maybe a spy something. I thought I caught it there in his eyes. But I dosed him enough, I swear I did and you were right the drug isn’t running out quickly enough even after the solvent I… Quickly. We can do it quickly, right?” That question is followed by a rustle of clothing, an unmistakable sound when one is intimately familiar with such intimacy, and it leaves Garak in an odd position. He can lay here and pretend to remain asleep while the two Augments responsible for this mess engage in intercourse on the Guls damned floor by the sound of it, or he can reveal his wakeful state and risk the possibility of them killing him to protect their interests.

 

He couldn’t even begin to guess why he entertains the latter for more than a second. 

 

From the sounds of it, the humans will be finished their coupling before long and he’s sure they’ve already boosted everything from his watch to his toothbrush to make a hasty exit. There's also that insignificant detail of his _prUt_ still pressed painfully against his tight pants for the second time this evening, Julian's soft pants and moans exacerbating that ache. Garak also notes that the noise seems to be growing closer, and that’s concerning him greatly for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which is-

 

The bed shakes - clearly hit - and it takes every ounce of training to remain silent like the grave. Garak allows his tongue to scent the air in their closer proximity, the most subtle of pokes, wishing he hadn’t when Julian’s arousal again meets his tongue thickly. Only Julian, which is _very_ curious. Parmak is fond of telling him – Parmak and Tain both – that his curiosity will be the death of him, though Parmak sounds amused where Tain is coldly assessing. Garak wants to know what Jack looks like. He knows what he tastes like, not as sweet as Julian, but akin to a mouthful of his favorite pickled yarmok root where Julian is like honey candy. He thinks a moment, knowing Parmak's preferences that the doctor would likely find Jack's scent irresistible. _ood Elim, maybe you can introduce them when these two are finished fucking and robbing you._ Garak has the voice catalogued, the scent, the puzzle slowly forming the picture except for Jack’s face. 

 

Garak can already imagine Julian’s slim body bent over, the long legs spreading and- He feels the bed dip between his spread legs, imagining Julian’s palms pressed shoulder width apart, the mystery figure putting hands to his hips and-

“There, got a good view hm? You keep looking at it. I can see your eyes looking at it sticking up like that so I don’t know why you’re trying to hide hmhm?”

“J-Jack I… I don’t want to… God don’t… don’t tease me please I… I can’t…”

“Upset me? Ah right right poor Jack, poor thing, everything upsets him nuh uh, not pinning this one on old John J, Julian you want it you take it. _Carpe diem, dulcissimus...”_

“It wouldn’t… be right, Jack he’s asleep I can’t j-j-just… Ha… god please… please I need you too…”

“This? Oh yes yes a very merry un-birthday to my Mad Hatter there…”

“Jack! Jack!”

 

The bed is definitely rocking now- “Go on… go on _victori sunt spolia._ ” Garak thinks he’s holding his breath at that, thankful for the verbal cues because he’s able to stay calm when he feels the bed shift again, feeling like an entire body is crawling up, closer, a weight absolutely between his bound and spread legs. He waits for a second dip but doesn’t feel it. If his heart wasn’t already racing from the resurgence of heat it certainly would be now. Whoever this “Lauren” is that devised such an effective serum would be invaluable to their organization. 

 

Garak isn’t sure how much time has passed since Julian touched him in the bar, but he definitely should have metabolized it completely by now instead of coming back to full eversion even faster than the last time. They’re willing to steal, are they willing to kill? _Guls, listen to yourself, you fool, your mission is likely running late while you’re lying here getting robbed because a young man in a nice outfit paid you a compliment, and you’re thinking about recruiting these two thieves for what? Sex? Guls and Ancients, Parmak would never let you live that one-_

 

Garak screams. Not out loud- that is, in the hallowed halls of his mind he allows the most blissful release of that vociferation when he feels Julian’s hand on him. He doesn’t dare out loud, even when he feels a palm over his shame, feels it circle and rub down _hard_ just how he likes it. He pushes his hips up, knowing that nothing will come of it, the drug allowing him to indulge in attempting as much movement as he'd like. The illusion of the mind is powerful enough to let him pretend. So he does; the inside of his head is a fevered rush of babbled encouragement, a powerful dream of hisses and groans as Julian rubs and the bed shakes. Garak’s head goes back, in his mind his hands tangle in the sheets, the incorporeal images behind his shuttered eyelids swimming around him half deliriously, as in reality he remains a trapped prisoner of his own body counting seconds, counting rocks of the bed, and listening to Julian’s cries and-

 

_Oh... oh Gulssss..._ Garak feels Julian’s warm breath to the bulge between his legs because Julian’s mouth is against it. That breath in his mind reconstitutes the cold stain of his spent seed back to a warm wet to pool- or maybe it's actually happening. His _ajan_ , his slit weeps as that voice of the mind sobs, and he bites his tongue to keep from crying out when he feels the soft trill of Julian’s frantic cries muffled to his covered _prUt_. He wants to open them, but finds that the muscles of his unconscious sense of self-preservation remain, locking them down until he slips every key guarding the vault to unlock it. He needs to bring himself out of the dark, out of that trance, because he needs to know _now_ the form of the man pulling those cries from Julian’s throat. He visualizes carefully, telling himself that with Julian’s face obscured, Jack’s likely is too, so there’s little risk of a blink of the eyes open.

 

Its slow, like a massive gate raising, the docking clamps disengaging from a ship, as the light from the room filters back in. Unmodded eyes might not adjust so easily, but not so for him. Garak blinks up at the ceiling as the light filters in once more, carefully checking to see if his neck will move. It does, slow and sluggish. He tries to discreetly open and close his hands and he can, which means that it’s only a matter of time before he can move more than that. But his focus now that he can see, is the unveiling of the visual to accompany the sounds. When he sees Julian it doesn't disappoint.

 

He sees the top of Julian’s head, sweat slicked shoulders, the long line of his tanned back bowed, his entire body rocked forward, rhythmically. His hair is messily plastered to his forehead, and his eyes are definitely closed. Garak sees Julian’s hands on his thighs, clutching, pulling at the fabric of his pants. He feels nails digging in, and he imagines what it would be like to free his hands, extricate himself from those tight trousers, and let that molten human mouth close around him eagerly. Those hot little breaths and groans to his lap are making his ridges feel so full and swollen he longs to have teeth sink into them to calm that fever. Garak knows his respirations are increasing as his eyes fall from Julian to Jack, and he could almost swear an unconscious gasp escapes him at the unexpected sight. 

 

Jack isn’t kneeling behind Julian as Garak had imagined, naked and sweaty, driving him into the mattress from behind. Jack isn’t anywhere near him. He’s instead pacing around the room, occasionally stopping to sit cross legged on the chaise in the corner of the room, then the dresser, even the top of the desk, thumb in his mouth as he watches Julian intently. He's never still more than a few moments, circling, coming close, sometimes stopping with a laser focus and a wide manic grin.

 

Garak can see why when he looks closely. There’s a control gauntlet on his left wrist, and Garak can see Jack's fingers moving, his arm in motion, wrist flicking like a conductor of some human symphony. Garak is familiar with the control gauntlets. The Orion slavers favor them for controlling and compelling their stock like sad Earth puppets of old. He’s seen the gloves used for involuntary and crude motion. He's seen them used to induce pain. They’re designed to interface directly with an advanced implant that controls every function of the nervous system of the host from motion to sensation. Pleasure response is _possible_ of course, but he’s never seen the technology used in such a manner. The amount of trust involved for one party to allow such unbridled access to every facet of their body is obscene. 

 

No, Garak thinks as he watches Julian’s writhing form entranced, _that_ is obscene. Obscene and beautiful, and Jacks hand controls the accelerometers of the glove like a fantastic puppet master making a marionette dance for him. But he’s all concentration, focus vacillating between Julian’s physical form and a translucent green scope over his right eye. Both eyes glow like Garak’s do. So they’re modded as well, and whatever he sees surely must be connected directly to Julian. Jack has a wild tousle of auburn hair falling around his face, hazel eyes almost the same shade as Julian’s, and a somewhat unique goatee, a small patch of hair under his lip and another on his chin, though it’s hard to tell with his thumb constantly at his mouth. He’s wearing a long black trench coat, a loose black turtleneck and slacks, seeming thicker in body than Julian, though it’s hard to tell underneath the layers of clothing. Garak also finds it strange that he doesn’t appear warm in the Cardassian room setting, his pale skin not appearing even a little flushed. Curious.

 

Garak also realizes in that moment that he’s playing a dangerous game, because Jack’s attention isn’t wrapped up in the heat of his lover. Or rather, it is but not in the manner that Garak was anticipating. He thinks about quickly shutting his eyes again, but he knows there’s no way that he can feign sleep now in the state that he’s in and-

“Jack?” he hears Julian ask lifting himself with a curious turn. He resembles a lost human dog, not even seeing Garak there as he looks at Jack with a lust lazy concern. “Why did you stop?” Garak knows the answer to the question before it’s voiced by Jack, because Garak sees Jack’s eyes boring into his. Jack doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. Jack blinks a few times and swallows, and Julian follows the track of his eyes until Garak is now staring back at Julian who looks at him almost stupidly.

 

“Oh… bollocks,” Julian whispers, eyes the size of an Elaran cashew nut. 

 

Yes, "bollocks" indeed!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak confronts the thieves and asks for a little compensation

Jack slowly stalks back over to Julian, eyes not straying from Garak for a second. Garak watches Jack reaching out for him blindly but intuitively, the hand reaching Julian's shoulder like a magnet not needing sight. Garak finds that protective instinct amusing. _He's_ is the one who’s tied to the bed and drugged. Is there something about him that especially radiates danger? He was certain that he’s holding down what Parmak likes to call his “murderous instincts” (though when Parmak says it, it’s always with a shiver and a squeeze of Garak’s shoulders belying that teasing). No, he’s certain that he’s-

“You can see me.” Jack states tersely, while Garak thinks that much should be obvious.But there’s no such thing as obvious, and Garak grins slyly back at that, knowing the smile is the best way to disarm. Disarm Garak does, seeing Julian looking beautifully nervous as he slowly starts backing up on the bed. 

 

“He shouldn’t be able to see me,” Jack continues, looking at Garak while clearly speaking to Julian. Oh. Foolish beautiful Augment giving away his tricks like that. Sometimes Garak forgets that the optical enhancements are far more sophisticated then most, but judging by Jack's reaction, whatever his ability, it's enough to fool even basic mods, Garak is sure of it. What was it that Julian said earlier? That he thought Garak might be a spy? Julian is practically yanked backwards behind Jack the moment he's close enough, allowing Garak to foolishly see another gift. Like a cat, he twists in the air, landing on his feet. Neither of them take their eyes off of him. 

 

Garak nearly laughs. _Oh surely they aren’t unarmed? But they must be Elim, or else Jack wouldn’t be standing in front of him like that, waiting for an attack._ Garak keeps that pleasant smile on his face as he looks at them both again with a much different eye. They might still be seeing Kanagawa, but it's Garak who he's allowing them to see now, even with the visual skin over. He can sense their unease and can't help but be disproportionately amused at their innocent terror while staring at his middle aged alter ego. Perhaps he might tell Parmak the story once he returns after all... with a few unnecessary details omitted for brevity, of course. He thinks of that as he considers the two of them again.

 

They’re young, perhaps mid-twenties by his estimate, though human ages can be tricky. They seem to have had a fairly well thought out plan, but they also seem thoroughly unprepared for the unexpected. The cuffs are overkill. Even for a modded agent like him he'd hardly be able to slip them with them watching. He's not a cyberman, their scans would've caught that and the drug wouldn't have worked. Same with an energy creature. No, nothing that could escape these cuffs that simply would be caught out like this. _Oh use your head, if you were prepared you or any other handful of operatives could still kill them both_. They're clever, they're paranoid, but still green. Judging by their body language they're not just playing, they're clearly lovers. Garak thinks that “Lauren” is a proper name not a surname so they’re close with that individual as well. Which starts to form a tale in his mind of a group of plucky Augments banded together as children turned thieves then turned _high tech high stakes thieves_. They have potential. He likes potential.

 

Garak sees both young men look like they’re struggling to find words, so he takes pity on them and speaks first. 

“What time is it?” he asks, knowing that the question will confuse them both. They are not aware that it’s the most important question which looms in his mind. He waits to see which of them will answer him as their confusion spreads. 

“You don’t need to know that,” Jack answers quickly, his cadence as fast as it was earlier.

“It’s ten ‘til midnight,” Julian answers at the same time, Jack turning his head slightly 

“Don’t tell him that he doesn’t need to know that." A pause, a look passes between them. "Okay midnight right, clock strikes twelve pumpkins, carriage, glass slipper cutting off toes,” Jack mumbles. “So what, what about it hmhm? You have a way to turn back time so you’re not in the cuffs? Because you’re cuffed and you can’t touch us and the scans didn’t pick up telepathy so I know you can’t reach us with your mind either, no, no Queen Mab giving birth to dreams here!” 

 

Garak can tell that Jack doesn’t appear entirely convinced of his own words, and feels an odd thrill at that which is only enhanced by the drug.

“Of course, you two handsome young men have me at a disadvantage,” he practically purrs, the ease of his tone only serving to make them both more certain of the danger he poses. Garak almost laughs again at their tension. “I suppose I should be so thankful that you’re leaving me with my clothes though I should say my dignity might suffer a great loss… as for my credits…” he takes note of Julian’s arms wrapped around Jack from behind, clutching tightly at his chest, a drop of his face to Jack’s shoulder to take a breath. Mental faculties are still compromised, Garak notes, tamping down the insidious thought that the same also holds true for him. 

 

Garak still has an hour. He doesn’t need an hour, watching Jack’s eyes narrow as he considers exactly what Garak is playing at. Garak knows his cover like the back of his hand and sees no reason why he shouldn’t stick to it. And if the two delightful looking Augments decide that he’s perhaps just as dangerous as he really is well then, who’s Garak to so cruelly disabuse them of their precious illusions?

“We do, that’s right, advantage us, check and mate, _veni vidi vici_ mmhm!” Bob of head, biting finger, eyes darting towards the door, Garak reads him easily. He scents the air again, appealing more to Julian who’s squeezing at Jack with a few absent presses of his hips against the long coat.

“You don’t consider it... unnecessarily cruel to leave this poor aging merchant tied to a bed unsatisfied?” he asks, noticing a raise of Julian's head to stare at him over Jack’s shoulder.

 

“Oh I’m... so sorry...” Julian gasps, half climbing around Jack trying to remain standing. Unlike Jack, he’s sweating, still flushed, still hard, that human cock swollen, dark, bobbing between his legs, and he appears almost in a trance as Jack catches him yanking him back.

“Are you crazy?” Jack hisses at him eyes darting from Garak to the door furtively. “We got the goods we need to go… right the drug of course of course outside, not here I can finish you here you know you’re not in your right mind not firing on all cylinders listen _listen_ …” he pleads as Julian tries to pull away from him, eyes meeting Garak’s pitifully. It’s fascinating that the Augment hasn’t metabolized the drug as quickly, but it seems that whatever physical gifts he possesses they only slowed the drug’s progression, not dampened it. If anything he seems more affected than Garak now that it’s kicked in, it has to be due to the extra duration and exposure, solvent or not. 

 

“You think we’re stupid? You think we don’t know that you’re up to something hmhm?” Now, does Garak answer that with menace or innuendo? Julian makes that decision for him when he half turns, whimpering pathetically into Jack’s shoulder that it _hurts_ and he _needs_ it, and please let him be quick about it. It’s sweet how that agitation crumbles to helplessness in the face of Julian’s need, Jack’s brow looking pained as he swears under his breath, lightly rubbing the back of Julian’s neck. 

“I assure you, the only thing that I’m ‘up to’ is the same unfortunate malady as your…”

“Lover,” Jack snaps irritably at him before pointing at himself. “Lover,” a point to Garak, “Toy, mark, pleasure doll _instrument_!” Jack presses a kiss to Julian’s forehead. “You’re too hot. Should’ve listened to Lauren. Should’ve listened to me or Sarina or Patrick could've told you... could’ve should’ve…. Shut up Jack, you're not helping. Do you need me to... do anything else?” Jack asks after a deep breath.

 

Garak notices Julian shoot a quick hungry glance to the large bulge between his legs. Such a lovely, lovely boy. 

“Kiss me?” Julian asks, pressing to Jack. There’s another uneasy glance to Garak from Jack, a stiff nod following, his hands going behind his back, shoulders shifting with tension. “It’s alright,” Julian continues hastily, “you don’t have to-” Jack’s look to Garak shifts to defiance before he takes a breath, and Garak watches him kiss Julian deeply, keeping his eyes on Garak as he does, the message quite clear. He hears Julian moan, sees him lean into him, Jack nipping at his mouth before bringing his left hand back up. Garak watches fingers flick again, and sees Julian’s entire body melt, hears those moans increase, as Julian practically collapses against Jack. 

 

There’s a smug little grin from Jack as he pulls away that clearly challenges Garak. Garak scents the air, still scenting heat from only Julian. A pity; Jack is quite a cutting figure in his own right. 

"I think that if I use him then I can make it go away faster." Garak watches Julian look at him unconsciously before taking Jack's hands. "Is that alright? I know we don't know him like the others but I... I need to feel something under me and I don't want to do that to you."

"Yeah yeah, make it fast. Be glad he's not Lauren, we'd never leave." The scope activates back over his right eye. "You know how to-"

"I can do this. It's just calibration is all," Julian says cryptically as Jack snorts. Garak thinks that if he could move again, he would show them both how a toy can hardly compare to organics no matter what Lok might like to bleat on about.

 

Those thoughts are trailing off, Julian’s face dark as his legs tremble, body sweat slick as he nearly falls on the bed. Between Jack and the drug, Julian barely drags one knee onto the mattress, then the other, crawling over on unsteady arms, heavy musk filling Garak’s nostrils, bathing his tongue until Julian’s left hand reaches his thigh. Right, those thoughts definitely have no place when the bait of the evening is about to let itself be caught.

“I’m sorry,” Julian says, hazy hazel eyes meeting his, and how precious to think that Julian still thinks that somehow he’s the one taking advantage. Garak notices another snort from Jack at that, but Jack is more concerned with concentrating on the numeric view, the levels, the meters, a slow breath out as his fingers continue their motion. Julian shuts his eyes momentarily and bites his lower lip.

 

“I shouldn’t think you’ve anything to be sorry for unless our liaison is once again cut short.” Garak answers, feeling a shiver threaten to burst forth from him when Julian’s hands fumble with the buttons of his trousers.

“I’m sorry, _Jack_ ,” Julian repeats, ignoring him, and Garak grins at that. Oh ho, an apology for his lover while making sure to emphasize that Garak truly is nothing more than a vehicle for release. Such a wicked little gesture, naughty, _fuck_ Garak catches a little smirk on Julian's face, and imagines pulling that mouth to his _prUt_ and choking him on it. Julian pulls Garak’s prick free from its confines, hard, sensitive, _hot_ in his hand already close to bursting as he squeezes the base drawing a _tsss_ in response. 

 

“Pfft, Sorry? Jack asks incredulously. " _You’re_ the one screwing him, hoisted by your own petard hm," he continues while Julian seems confused that Garak's prick feels so slick. The tactile manipulation can hardly control such detail and he supposes if one isn't thinking too hard about it- Or if one is too focused on his own please and his lover's voice, they wouldn't think it unusual. "-maybe you’ll listen to me next time, listen to Lauren, listen to anyone but your-”

“I know, I’m s-sssorry,” Julian hisses while Garak revels in the comely thief forced to crawl over to him, forced to kneel, forced to straddle his hips with that slender lust fired body, and sink back onto his slick throbbing cock. Garak groans as that beautiful heat engulfs him and settles almost experimentally while straddling his thighs. Julian faces away from him – facing Jack – but that only gives Garak a pleasant view of Julian’s tight tiny little ass with Garak’s cock buried splitting it open wide.

“Stuff your sorries in a sack and move move, fly, envious time, till thou run out thy race-” 

“C-call on… the lazy leaden… s-sstepping hoursss…” Julian gasps back, leaving Garak to wonder only a moment if that isn’t some sort of code. Only, that though slips away as Julian moves, not with the fast frantic pace that Garak would have imagined, but with exactly a leaden step, a slow rock of his body, his hands resting on Garak’s knees as he situates himself further like he's getting a good position on a sybian and not fucking another person.

 

“Jack… Jack…” he hears, that last syllable close enough to allow Garak’s fevered mind to hear his own accented name chanted as Julian starts to ride his cock, slow, ebbing like the tide, tight greedy hole an undertow slowly sucking him into deep waters, making him groan, making him squeeze his hands hard in the cuffs and try to will some motion back into his body so that he can move in time with Julian. It’s nice but it’s not what he _needs_. Garak can tell that Jack is working, adjusting, and Julian’s motions are in time with the device rather than Garak, clearly only for his own pleasure. _Well Elim, he did call you an instrument._ Garak huffs a frustrated breath (he didn't expect those words to be prophetic!) and opens his mouth to suggest that there’s little point in a dance when only one partner’s body is considered. 

 

“I might advise-” he begins only to have Jack rather rudely cut him off.

“You might not spoil the denouement by telling the guests everything is terrible!” Jack snaps with another adjustment as Julian asks “ _terrible?!_ ” Frustrating would be a more accurate descriptor but Garak isn’t in a mood to be pedantic so he leaves the two to continue their offensive conversation with Jack informing Julian that he can only speak wo what he's heard while Julian demands to know who said that throwing out any number of names that make Garak blink. Guls, how could a man have fornicated with so many others and not have gained a single iota of proficiency. He feels Julian stop start again, beginning to get some idea as Jack works, wondering if Julian sans Jack might at least make a passable instrument in his own right.

 

“Haa… ah… ohoh pleassse there there…” That from Julian while Garak only wishes he were getting _half_ that much pleasure out of the act. Garak thinks he can feel a move of his own hips, pitiable, hardly sufficient to promote proper friction, lacking that good squeeze of muscles that he likes. Julian drags himself forward, back, body bent over, nails scraping at Garak’s knees through his trousers, clearly matching his motions to Jack’s manipulations rather than anything that Garak might be trying to encourage. Julian makes a lovely sight with those slow little pulses, turning his head with gasps and half delirious flutter of his eyes with Jack’s name becoming a series of louder and louder sobs. It’s a torture. Those stilted, self-indulgent rock-stop pulses are nowhere near enough for him. Garak can feel himself slowly rising and falling towards and back from the edge, not quite reaching that crest, which only makes Julian’s swallowed gasps, nearly incoherent whimpers and gutted “sogoodsogood” rather offensive. He has a mad flash of actually trying to extricate himself from the cuffs, take hold of those slim hips, and give Julian the pounding of a lifetime.

 

Parmak might laugh at the notion of Garak eager to be so active a partner, but Parmak has never had a beautiful boy fucking himself breathless on top of him like this either, using him as nothing but a device for getting off. Garak is breathing hard, hissing, feeling so constrained in his clothes that he could burst. It’s a torture- a squeezing, writhing torture- and Julian shifts again, head lifting, looking to Jack, some silent exchange passing between them that takes Garak a moment to process. It’s quite clear he issue resulting from the brain manipulative properties of the implant that Julian has. Why should he have to understand how move with another body for mutual gratification when his lover can do that without needed any input on his end? Or rather, Garak thinks as he looks to Jack’s pleased little smile as Julian’s body locks stiff with another cue and crook of his finger, the gratification that he knows how to bring _is_ mutual but of an entirely different nature.

 

That is… unfortunate, Garak thinks as Julian clearly comes, head thrown back, feeling nice, feeling tight but not nearly _enough_ , not nearly the _right_ motion for Garak to cross that aching precipice even as hard and painfully as his cock pulses inside Julian wanting to release. Ah, but he’s endured far greater torture, he supposes as Julian slumps, sliding off him unceremoniously, nearly falling sideways.

“Perfect, high score nice nice, I can use this. I can recalibrate, I can simulate some of these mmhm. This is good data and good numbers so when we get back I can make a few more levels. Good, we good? We can go ‘cause you know we don’t have a lot of time, gotta run, 3:10 to Yuma so… so…” Jack trails off looking at Garak. “Why are you looking at me like that? You got to fuck him. That’s what you wanted, right? Hm?” In a moment of immeasurable indignity, Garak swallows hard and tries to recover his breath.

 

“Of course, and much as I appreciate the-” _inexperienced and pointless gyrating_ “-pleasures of Julian’s body, as you can see that only one of us here has reached completion.”

“So what? It’ll go back to normal.” Jack says flatly as he retracts the eyepiece. “Always does unless it’s broken but it doesn’t look broken, so I don’t know what you want either of us to do about it.” Garak is about to try and make the case further with a sinking feeling that Jack is never going to understand that the insertion is only part of the equation. Either that or he understands perfectly and just doesn't care. It works out the same for Garak regardless, so he instead thinks of appealing back to Julian, who turns back mid licking a sticky palm to regard him curiously. 

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, still flushed, still aroused, shifted from one foot to another as Jack races into the bathroom and throws him a towel. “D-did you want me to um…” Julian winces as he halfheartedly towels off his cock and stomach.

“Leave him. We need to…” Jack jumps onto the bed and springs off with a flip instead of going around, leaving Garak watch this surreal display with a sinking heart.

“I mean we are er… taking his credits so it would only be fair to-”

“Uh uh mm mm live by the sword die by it, Double Oh Slizzard gets taken by a honeypot well, Christopher Robin, we need to bounce…” Jack's language is becoming more disjointed and that’s setting off alarm bells in Garak’s head, his instincts coupled with his metabolism finally starting to override the drug. It’s also likely some of it sweated out as well and he hopes that Parmak can analyze it when he-

 

There’s the blare of an alarm, a holo-display appearing above the bed – likely reading his heat signature – alerting all guests to a fire raging in the kitchen. Garak feels cold in the pit of his stomach as Julian and Jack share a look while Julian wiggles back into the speed suit, at least having the decency to look contrite. They’re evacuating the building, and Garak is careful not to let the panic show on his face as Jack grabs suitcase full of Garak’s worldly possessions. 

“Forgive me for interrupting you gentlemen in your haste to make a clean getaway, but seeing as I’m still not able to move, I might appreciate your indulgence in removing these cuffs lest the conflagration reach here.” 

 

They read his expression, thankfully mistaking it for unease about the fire and share a look.

Jack opens his mouth. Julian shoves his finger in it and winces when there’s a bite. He doesn’t move it as he continues to look at Garak apologetically. Garak, is careful to keep calm even as catches the time on the feed knowing that his target is likely evacuating as they speak. 

“You set the fire,” Garak says shrewdly, not needing verbal confirmation. They either set it or planned it, and what better way to escape in the chaos and hack into the security feeds? Which… oddly bodes well for him because it will only serve to mask his own complicity in the situation and leave him without blame. In _theory_ ; Tain would censure him should the sun fail to rise the next day with that fatherly smile and cutting little digs.He can already hear Parmak with his soft click of a tongue and a reassurance that's meant to do nothing but emasculate (and subsequently arouse, but that's neither here nor there). Garak’s jaw tightens unconsciously at both of those prospects..

 

“I’m sorry we ah… really must be going but you’ll be alright, I promise we’ve accounted for the-” Julian winces again as Jack bites down harder. “Right. Sorry er… nice meeting you and-”

Jack opens his mouth, Julian’s finger released and suddenly there’s a grab of Julian’s short hair. Garak watches silently, eyes dark and assessing as they make towards the door and stop. He sees Jack look up like a beast sensing some sound from far off, before backtracking towards the bed. He stalks around Garak warily, as if somehow those bonds could snap – which in fairness, if given time Garak could figure a way out of them – and send Garak lunging for his throat. It would almost be amusing if it weren’t for the fact that he starts to go low, looking under the bed, Garak’s heart thumping wildly as he reminds himself that the hidden case won’t reveal itself without his signature.

 

Except if one were a genetic Augment with special _gifts_ , and Garak sees Jack reactivate the scope. He swears silently.

“Jack?” Julian asks, taking the suitcase back up where it was unceremoniously dropped. “I thought you said that we needed to leave now.” Garak nearly holds his breath, reminding himself of the irrationality of such an action, to find that Jack is carefully searching, one finger up to Julian for him to hold a moment. Garak’s jaw is tight. Commenting would only draw attention to the fact that he very much does _not_ want Jack searching under there, so instead he calmly makes a mental note of every detail about the two of them. He’s certain that with the data he’s committed to memory they’ll be able to be traced no matter where they may run to, and Garak looks at Julian quiet, dangerously for just an instant seeing panic cross those features when he does. “Whatever it is Jack,” Julian says taking a step towards him, “I think you should leave it.”

 

Julian looks at Garak as he speaks, Garak’s face neutral which he can tell is only unnerving him further. He continues looking back, barely blinking – a stare that Lok always tells him is incredibly unsettling – seeing Julian swallow and hiss Jack’s name more insistently following a clearing of his throat.

“Oh ho! What have we here, the famed city of gold, and here in chains with acid dripping on his scaly skin is _El Hombre Dorado_ himself hmhm.” Jack appears to be holding nothing above his head until one looks closely and sees the ripple of refracted light.

“Jack, put it back,” Julian pleads, clearly not liking Garak’s stare. Garak has to hold back a smile. He broke Parmak with that stare after all, the doctor until that point believing himself to be scared of nothing. Garak can scent his fear, lust dropped behind that beautiful dark curtain. “Please, just put it back.”

 

“Down the Valley of the Shadow, Ride, boldly ride! The shade replied,” Jack sings, dancing with the wavering light box over his head while Julian swallows hard. He has a pleasant tenor, Garak thinks letting amusement get the better of him as Julian yells that “the damn poem is a metaphor for _death_.” Garak has a low, dark titter of laughter at that which immediately catches the attention of both augments. Julian looks pale as some old human faerie and Jack merely looks curious. He lowers the box, holding it to the side like a child covetous of a new toy. Mmm, it looks like Garak may not need to play nice to retrieve it. Garak watches them both, continuing to observe, seeing a gleam in Jack’s eyes as he looks between Julian and him.

 

“What has it got in its pockets, my precious,” Jack declares with a manic hiss laughing loudly in Julian’s face. “Hm! But it’s my birthday present, my precious ha! Ha! C’mon then, Sam, let’s leave old Smeagol here to wallow in the dark while we carry our precious burden back to Mordor!” The words mean little to Garak. They don’t seem to mean much in any abstract to Julian save for the sickened look still haunting him. 

“Right, into the fires of Mount Doom, it is,” Garak hears him mutter following behind Jack who’s taken to singing a jaunty tune as he practically dances out of the room. 

“One ring to rule them all. One ring to find them. One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.” Curious, he thinks. It would almost sound like a riddle if it didn’t resemble more of a quote. Another clue filed away, Julian taking the large duffle bag while Jack handily makes off with the case. Garak takes a deep breath watching the dramatic swirl of Jack’s long black coat with Julian shooting one last uneasy look behind before shutting the door.

 

It takes another twenty minutes for the drug to completely metabolize. It takes another ten for the fire rescue to come through and give him a rescue with poorly concealed amusement at his predicament, the pink haired woman and her chiseled partner mercifully silent for all the looks exchanged between the two of them that Garak pretends not to notice. The hotel staff is beside themselves to offer apologies and compensation which Garak graciously accepts. The target escapes, spooked by the alarm. Tain cheerfully informs him that a hound sent to hunt does not return with an empty mouth and a gnawing belly. Garak graciously accepts that rebuke as well, already on the task of tracking the target’s new whereabouts. It’s a simple matter which he chooses to view as an additional week of vacation while he allows the target to settle into another pointless pleasure trip to Neo Tokyo colony A5.  More neon, more criminals, more beautiful darkness from which the serpent may strike. 

 

And speaking of darkness…

 

Garak looks those lines up, after he finishes making short work of the target. It cost him half a lifetime of favors called in to Parmak to get a care package discreetly sent to replace his missing case. When it arrives it’s with a cheerful little note affirming that cancelled debt in Parmak’s messy scrawl and that Garak absolutely _owes_ him. Garak lays back on the soft mattress of the underground hotel room, finding the words as part of some old series of human books. Funnily, they're the very old books on the fifth page of Parmak's "want" list. The rhyme completes with the telling line _“In the land of Mordor where the shadows lie”._ He considers briefly, whether or not there’s a hidden meaning that he can take, or if it was merely the self referential babbling of an Augment touched with a grip of madness. He reads them again, eyes at half mast in a dreamy state of meditation. Garak smiles as the ambient noise from the computer plays a slow low din ofthe catacombs back home.

 

He knows exactly which hole his little rabbits have scurried down.


End file.
